


The best way to bargain

by robotboy



Series: The Doksany Stories [3]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s01e03 Commodities, M/M, MuskiesRewatch, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Schmoop, Stitches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 11:35:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12681090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotboy/pseuds/robotboy
Summary: Aramis redoes Porthos' stitches, and Porthos finds a way to thank him.





	The best way to bargain

**Author's Note:**

> Same as usual, rough ficlet that can stand alone or fit with the other episode tie-ins.

‘Never again, do you hear me?’ Aramis threaded the needle.

‘You say that every time,’ Porthos replied. ‘And you know you never mean it.’

‘That’s quite beside the point,’ Aramis snapped. ‘It makes me feel better.’

‘Don’t know why,’ Porthos shifted his weight carefully. ‘Much better that I have your back.’

‘But I didn’t have yours,’ Aramis murmured. His hand eased over Porthos’ shoulders, adjusting his position on the table.

‘You do now. You’re putting it back together.’

‘ _Mi querido. Tu eres tonto, pero te amo.*_ ’

‘I know what that means, you know,’ Porthos twisted his neck to glare at Aramis, only to find his jaw held firmly and turned away. ‘It’s not as attractive as you think it is.’

‘Then you haven’t had enough brandy,’ Aramis scolded him. ‘This shall hurt rather more than the last one. It’ll be an ugly scar, too, because I’ve got to go over the holes you tore. Serves you right.’

‘Rubbish,’ Porthos said. ‘They’re all handsome when you do them.’

‘ _It’s not as attractive as you think it is_ ,’ Aramis said in a sing-song voice. He offered Porthos a knotted rag to bite down on, and Porthos accepted it rather than argue further. He focused on keeping himself still more than quiet, groaning into the fabric as the needle punched through his skin. The tug of the thread made him want to shudder, but he squeezed his eyes shut and dug his nails into his palm until the sting distracted him.

The itch was infuriating, with the wound being a day old already. Porthos growled in frustration, ending in a whimper when Aramis pinched his skin to pull the stitches tight. Aramis hushed him, a continuous muttering of soothing nonsense. It _was_ comforting. Porthos thought—perhaps a little deliriously—Aramis’ voice was home. Aramis, who always knew what he needed, kept talking as he worked, shifting from endearments to complaints to prayers. Porthos still couldn’t hold back a grunt at the yank of Aramis tying the thread off.

‘There,’ Aramis said. ‘And that’ll be the last one, too.’

Porthos nodded, getting himself upright one-handed. Aramis dressed the wound efficiently, easing Porthos’ arm up to wrap the bandage around. Porthos realised then how much he’d been sweating while Aramis worked, clammy and stinking from the strain.

He couldn’t ask Aramis about the possibility of staying the night like this. Perhaps some platitude about watching for a fever. Porthos shuffled to the edge of the table and got to his feet, resigned. But Aramis kissed his forehead, then took the hand of his good arm and led him to bed anyway.

It took some arranging to get them both comfortable. Aramis fussed terribly, and Porthos loved every minute of it. He cradled his arm to his chest, Aramis’ hand resting on his waist. Aramis kissed him fondly, and then insistently, with what felt like a need to assure himself Porthos was truly alive.

Those kinds of kisses involved tongue, Aramis twisting his head to get deeper without Porthos needing to move. Aramis cupped his face with one hand, fingers digging a little into his side with the other.

‘Hmm,’ Porthos nuzzled Aramis’ throat. ‘Let me thank you.’

‘ _Absolutely not_. You’ll strain yourself.’

‘You’re being a mother hen.’

‘ _You’re_  being reckless.’

Porthos nibbled underneath Aramis’ ear: that was the best way to bargain with him.

‘Mmm—’ Aramis squirmed. ‘—when I take the stitches out. Then you can  _thank_  me all night long.’

'Oh, yeah?' Porthos spoke into the shell of Aramis' ear. 'How exactly will I repay you?'

'By sucking me off, for starters,' Aramis suggested. 'I deserve it.'

'You always think you deserve it,' Porthos reminded him. 'And you always do.'

'Then you can fuck me. On your back, so you don't damage that shoulder again.'

'Thoughtful,' Porthos remarked. 'Love that about you.'

Aramis made a smug noise. 'I'll leave a candle lit, and you can watch me ride you.'

Porthos slipped his thigh between Aramis' legs. Aramis ground against him, just to show he was hard. He kept his hand firm on Porthos' waist, not letting him stretch his injury.

'Want to be told how pretty you are?' Porthos asked. He shifted to push his leg up again, and Aramis rocked into the movement, nodding.

'Want a good hard slap on the arse?'

Aramis cocked his head curiously: that wasn't a no.

'You've mentioned whipping twice in the last few days,' Porthos reminded him. 'Don't think I didn't notice.'

'So I did,' Aramis remarked. His movement was growing more purposeful now. Porthos could feel the heat of him through their underclothes.

'With my good arm, of course,' Porthos continued. 'Hard enough you lose a bit of that poise.'

Aramis' composure was already slipping. He was lovely like this, when he lost himself in sex.

'Gonna finish on me?' Porthos didn't clarify whether he meant tonight, or later. Aramis nodded anyway, the movement short with tension.

'Hey,' Porthos nestled close to Aramis' face, where he could feel the quickening breath from Aramis' parted lips. 'What if I blindfolded you?'

Aramis quailed, a moan escaping him. Porthos chuckled.

'Isn't it driving you mad, not letting me help?'

'You're helping plenty,' Aramis hissed, writhing in a stuttering rhythm. 'And I can do this myself, you know.'

'If you insist,' Porthos kissed his cheek.

'You love it.'

'I do.'

'Tell me again,' Aramis panted.

'I love it. I love you,' Porthos smiled. 'The feeling of you, the sounds you make, the smell of us. Love the way you go all messy when you're gonna come. How you get more honest than you should. How happy it makes you.'

'How happy—' Aramis was struggling now, his cock throbbing against Porthos' thigh. '— _you_  make me.'

'That's it,' Porthos coaxed him to come, catching Aramis' shout in his mouth. 'There you are.'

Aramis clung to Porthos and panted, covering his face in sloppy kisses. 'Here I am,' he echoed.

Once Aramis was too sleepy to admonish him, Porthos moved his arm. He stroked the hair from Aramis' face, running his fingers along Aramis' scalp. Aramis hummed, snuggling closer, until he was pressed to Porthos' heart. Porthos held him there, where Aramis could be sure it was still beating.

**Author's Note:**

> * 'My beloved. You are foolish, but I love you.’


End file.
